Price of Admission
by kingdomflower
Summary: Post season 6. Carol receives a visitor at the Kingdom. AU.


Her head was throbbing. Which Carol took as a blessing, because it took her mind off her arm and leg. The cut in her side had dulled to a mild roar, but her bullet wounds made themselves known with every breath she took. She took a moment to curse Morgan again for saving her life.

Morgan. He'd left a week ago. Said he'd be back. He didn't tell her where he was going, but she knew. And she threatened to kill him if he told anyone where she was. He'd simply smiled at that, and told her to get some rest.

She missed her family. Desperately. But the thought of going there again, back to who and what she was…the idea terrified her.

Her eyes shifted to the door of her room. She could hear muffled voices beyond. She strained, but couldn't make out who it was. And then she remembered that she really didn't know too many people at the Kingdom well enough to recognize their voices.

The door opened with a bit too much force, and Daryl came bursting into her room. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating, the pain medication affecting her brain. But he crossed the room in two strides and fell to his knees by her bedside, grasping her hand in his. And then she knew he was real. Her eyes immediately shifted to Morgan, standing in the doorway. All she could do was glare at him.

Daryl's hands were shaking around hers. His head was bowed, resting on their joined hands. She could see a clean bandage under his shirt on his shoulder.

"Been walking for two days. He wouldn't stop." Morgan offered.

"Get some water?" Carol asked, her eyes not leaving Daryl.

Only when Morgan left did Carol reach out with her free hand and place it on Daryl's head. His hair was disgusting, as usual, but she ran her hands through it, trying to calm him. She felt, more than heard, his whimper, continuing the motion even as Morgan came back with 2 glasses of water. He left without saying a word, closing the door behind him.

"Daryl."

His only response was to grip her hand tighter.

She sighed, lifting his head with her free hand. "Look at me."

Carol wasn't sure what she was expecting, but when he fixed his gaze on her, she was surprised to not see any anger in his eyes. Pain, exhaustion, relief, those were there. But, perhaps only for the moment, no anger.

"Drink some water," she said, handing him a glass.

He took the water and swallowed it in two gulps, placing the empty glass on the nightstand.

"Thank you." She managed a small smile for him.

He nodded, his eyes closing while he took a labored breath. The exhaustion came off him in waves.

Carol pulled her hand free of his grasp, and managed with a modicum of grace to slide over on the mattress. She nodded to the space next to her. "Come on."

He looked at her with confusion.

She shoved the covers aside. "You look like you're about to fall over. You need to rest."

He stared at her, blinking for a few moments, before shrugging with his good shoulder and climbing into the bed.

"I only have the one pillow," she said.

"S'alright. Don't need no pillow." The first words he'd spoken.

"Shut up and take half, Daryl."

He did as he was told, pulling it closer so they could share.

He was on his left side, facing her. She remained on her back, but turned her head to look at him.

"What happened to your shoulder?"

"Shot."

She frowned. "Who?"

"Dwight," he whispered.

Carol nodded, not wanting to push.

"Who shot you?"

"A guy. I killed his friends. You know how it goes."

He shifted, his fingers grazing the edges of the bandage on her arm. She watched him, his eyes growing heavy. As hard as she tried to resist, the urge to get even closer to him was unrelenting.

She shifted on the bed, rolling to her side despite her body's protests. She was doing herself no favors by putting weight on her right side, but that didn't matter right now.

Daryl's eyes fluttered open. "What're you-"

"Shhh. Come here."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Your arm."

"That's right. It's my arm. I do what I want with it."

"Don't want to hurt you." His voice was barely a whisper.

"I can promise you that you won't."

He moved closer to her, positioning his head beneath her arm on the pillow. She thought he might have balked at the idea of being close to her breasts, but again with the surprises, he buried his face in her chest and sighed deeply.

She started to run her hands through his hair again to coax him to sleep. They were silent for a few minutes and Carol thought he had surrendered to sleep when he spoke.

"Why you sleepin with Tobin?" He mumbled.

Her hand froze on his head. Before she could think of a response, he spoke again.

"You're not supposed to do that, ya know."

She couldn't help herself. "I'm not?"

"No." His sleepy voice rumbled into her chest.

"Where should I sleep, Daryl?"

He took so long to reply Carol thought she'd gone too far. "This is good," he offered.

She bit back a smile that threatened to burst forth in spite of everything. "Daryl, did they give you painkillers?"

He nodded against her chest. "Price of admission, they said."

"Okay. That's good. You sleep now." Her hand resumed its ministrations.

"Don't leave, k?"

His voice was impossibly small as his grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she sighed, closing her eyes.


End file.
